Chapter Text
Mercy stood in her and Swan’s bedroom, eavesdropping through a crack in the door. Swan and Ajax were in the living room having a shouting match with Cleon. Well, Ajax was yelling. Cleon and Swan managed to keep their voices calm, but Mercy heard Swan’s tone becoming more and more clipped as the conversation progressed. She would have liked to be part of the discussion - it was about her, after all - but Swan insisted she stay out of it for the moment.
“You can’t send Rembrandt out with just Mercy!” Ajax snapped.
“I can and I am,” said Cleon. “Mercy needs to learn the territory. A short tagging mission is good for that.”
“If she needs to learn the territory, have Swan take her on a fucking walk! Give her a map! Don’t send my girlfriend out with her alone!”
“Cleon, permission to speak freely?” asked Swan.
“Speak.”
“This is stupid. Mercy’s a decent fighter and yeah, she held her own against the Furies, but she had all of us behind her then. Plus a baseball bat.”
“You want me to give her another bat?”
“That wasn’t the point. She’s not experienced enough yet and Rembrandt’s not the world’s greatest fighter if shit goes down. Sorry, Rem.”
“You guys can stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Rembrandt said grumpily. Mercy hadn’t even remembered she was in the room. The girl was so quiet. “For what it’s worth, I trust Mercy. She’s a quick thinker and-”
“And fucking impulsive,” Ajax interrupted.
“That’s rich coming from you,” Swan retorted.
“Hey, fuck you!”
“Guys!” Rembrandt snapped. “I’m not even going outside our borders. The city painted over my old tags, I’m just redoing them. Two buildings. I could do this myself if we didn’t still have to follow the buddy system.”
“It’s not a buddy system,” Cleon protested.
“It so is. Mercy and I can do this. We’ll be fine.”
“Rembrandt,” Swan began.
“You promised you would stop treating me like a kid!” There was a little twinge of hurt ringing in her words. “Are you three gonna trust me or not?”
No one spoke for a moment. Damn, Mercy thought. The girl had a big voice when she wanted. She heard the patter of someone pacing on the hardwood floor, probably Ajax if she had to guess. Swan sighed.
“We do trust you,” she said.
“Thanks,” Rembrandt deadpanned. “Ajax?”
Ajax didn’t respond. Mercy could almost imagine her expression, fists clenched and arms folded over her chest, face scrunched up in a snarl. She imagined the Warriors staring at her expectantly waiting for her to either relent or keep fighting Cleon’s decision. Mercy couldn’t blame her; she didn’t like Swan going anywhere without her, it made her nervous, and Swan was tied with Ajax for the best fighter in the gang. But being one of the best fighters and not allowed to go with the one who wasn’t supposed to fight at all? Mercy understood why Ajax was on the brink of going full nuclear.
“Fine,” Ajax finally ground out. “You’re sure it’s nowhere near the borders?”
“I defined the borders,” Rembrandt pointed out. “It’s nowhere close.”
“Alright.”
“You guys are good to go home,” said Cleon. “Meet up with Mercy here tomorrow night.”
Mercy heard the front door open and close. Footsteps approached the bedroom. She jumped on the bed, grabbing one of Swan’s books and opening it to a random page, trying to seem casual as Swan entered. The war chief smirked and shut the door behind her.
“I know you were listening,” she said.
“Listening to what?” Mercy said, playing dumb.”
“Mercy.”
“Hm?”
“The book is upside down.”
Shit. She was caught. She groaned and put the book away. “Okay, yeah, I was listening.”
Swan chuckled and sat on the bed beside her. “So I don’t have to tell you how important this is.”
“I know, Swan. First time chaperoning a tagging trip, I know it’s a big deal.”
“Don’t use the word chaperoning. Rembrandt will throw a can at you if she hears it.” She leaned over and took Mercy’s hand. “You have two rules for this. One, get home alive, and two, keep Rembrandt out of trouble as best as you can without breaking rule one.”
“I know-”
“Want to hear a story?”
“Not really but I don’t think I have a choice.”
“A little while after Ajax and Rembrandt officially got together, I had to go on a tagging mission with her alone. There was a fight. Rembrandt didn’t even actually get hit, just got knocked into a wall, but she came home with a nasty scrape and a concussion. Ajax headbutted me in the face so hard she broke my nose. Never raised her hands, didn’t turn it into a fight, she only did it to make sure I knew that I screwed up. She and I are evenly matched on the regular but if Rembrandt’s safety is on the line, Rembrandt is the only one who can talk her down.”
“Swan.” Mercy held Swan’s hand in both of hers. “I get it. I can handle this. Trust me.”
“I do.”
The next night, Mercy waited on the stoop for Ajax and Rembrandt to arrive. They came around the corner hand in hand, Rembrandt saying something indistinct to Ajax, who looked like she wanted to be absolutely anywhere else. They met at the bottom of the steps. Rembrandt had her backpack full of spray paint on and her mask around her neck. Ajax let go of Rembrandt and shoved her hands in her pockets as she stared Mercy down.
“You guys gonna be alright?” she asked curtly.
“Yeah, babe, we’ll be fine,” Rembrandt said, sounding like they’d already had this conversation ten times on the walk over from their apartment.
“You’re sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
“I’m sure.” Rembrandt stood on her tiptoes to kiss Ajax’s cheek. “Mercy, let’s go.”
Mercy went to follow the tagger. When Rembrandt’s back was turned, Ajax snatched Mercy’s arm and stopped her in her tracks.
“Don’t let anything happen to her,” Ajax hissed before Mercy could speak, “or I’m gonna kick Swan’s ass and then come after you.” She reached into her jacket and shoved something into Mercy’s hands. When Mercy looked, she saw a large bowie knife in a beat up leather sheath. “Don’t let her see that. She hates it when I bring weapons.”
Ajax let go and turned to go up to the apartment. Hiding the knife in the back of her waistband, Mercy hurried after Rembrandt.
They didn’t talk as they strolled through the dark streets. Rembrandt hummed to herself, rattling a spray paint can to make a beat. Mercy thought it was cute. She looked around. Rembrandt’s tags were everywhere if you looked for them: a flash of red at the back of an alley, a streak of paint along the edge of a roof, markers in every nook and cranny to claim Coney Island for the Warriors. She glanced down at Rembrandt. The tagger was a solid five inches shorter than her but she couldn’t imagine trying to climb to the places Rembrandt could apparently go with ease.
“Hey,” she said, “how do you get up there?”
Rembrandt raised an eyebrow, pausing her beat. “What do you mean?”
She pointed to a tag on the top floor of a building that seemingly would be impossible to reach unless you rappelled down from the roof. “Like that one.”
“Oh, easy. Go up the fire escape, hop the railing, climb along the window ledge to reach it.”
“ Easy? ”
“For me.”
“Doesn’t it scare you? What if you fall?”
“Pfft. I tagged the face of the Wonder Wheel for my initiation,” Rembrandt said with pride. “Climbing a building don’t scare me. I’ve been doing it so long, it’s like walking.” She smiled softly. “I’ve got a better vertical jump now but when I started, Ajax used to have to pick me up to help me reach the fire escape. She watched me jump down from one and twist my ankle and wouldn’t let me do that after.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Depends on what it is.”
“Why Ajax?” She didn’t intend for it to sound like that. Rembrandt’s smile faded, her eyes narrowing as she turned to look Mercy square in the face. “Y’know, I mean, she’s so-”
“Watch ya mouth.”
“I don’t mean anything bad by it!” Mercy backpedaled. “It’s just, you guys are so… different.”
Rembrandt looked away and kept walking. “We are different,” she said. “And I’m glad for that. I…” She took a deep breath, contemplating how much she should share. “Ajax found me in a really, really bad place, and I’m not sure I would’ve gotten out of there alive if we hadn’t met on the boardwalk that first night. I know she’s loud and she’s quick to fight but it’s because she’s protective over all of us. Yeah, she’s worried about me being out here right now but she’s worried about something bad happening to you, too. She does like you, you know.”
Mercy couldn’t help the smile that lit up her face. “She does?”
“You two are weirdly similar. It honestly throws me for a loop sometimes. Wait, stop, this is the building I have to tag.”
“Where?”
“Third floor.” Rembrandt put her mask on. “Just wait down here and make sure there’s no trouble while I’m up there.”
“What if there is trouble?”
“Run.”
Mercy cringed a little and took her place by the ladder to the fire escape. She tried to stand like Swan, which felt weird, and then tried to stand like Ajax, which felt weirder, so she crossed her arms and shifted her weight between her feet waiting for Rembrandt to come down. It only took a minute before she heard footsteps clanging down the fire escape and Rembrandt dropped to the sidewalk beside her. Without a word, she waved her on towards the next target.
She made quick work of that one, too. Mercy watched her climb over the railing and suspend herself in mid air to reach around a corner. It was more than a little impressive, Mercy had to admit. She understood why Ajax would have taken so much notice in the beginning. As Rembrandt came down, she put her mask and cans into her backpack and smiled up at Mercy.
“All good,” she said. “Congrats. Your first tagging trip was a success.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” Mercy said in confusion.
“You don’t have to do anything. You’re just supposed to watch my back. If I’m up there and something happens while I’m on my own, there are only so many roofs I can jump across before I’m stuck.”
“Have you had to jump across roofs before?”
“Once or twice. But once I’m out of space, it’s a bad place to be. Let’s get back home.”
Rembrandt resumed her spray can beat as they walked back towards the apartment. Mercy nodded along, putting a little bounce in her step as she walked. She couldn’t help but smile. Her first tagging mission was a success! Rembrandt said so herself! Maybe now Swan would trust her to fend for herself a little more. Maybe she could get a little more approval and a little less standoffishness from Ajax. Cleon would know she could for sure depend on her. She was finally on her way to realizing her place in the gang.
Coarse laughter cut through the night. The Warriors stopped dead in their tracks and slowly turned around. Behind them on the corner, a group of men approached them, cackling and pushing each other around. They wore garish purple jackets with yellow crowns emblazoned across the chest and “S.I.” patches on the shoulders. Their eyes were set squarely on Mercy and Rembrandt.
Rembrandt made a tense noise in the back of her throat. “Staten Island clan,” she mumbled.
“Are they trouble?” Mercy asked.
“Everyone’s trouble when they’ve got something to prove.”
“Hey, ladies!” one of the men in front jeered. “What are a couple of pretty girls like you doing out so late?”
Swan’s rules echoed in Mercy’s ears as she put herself between Rembrandt and the gang. “You shouldn’t be wearing your colors in Warrior territory,” she snapped, head held high. “Or anywhere in Brooklyn. Take them off and get back on your boat home.”
“Oh, yeah? Why don’t you come over here and make us?”
Rembrandt grabbed Mercy by the hand and bolted.
“Get ’em!”
Mercy could barely keep up with her. Rembrandt ran without looking back, without thought, moving solely on autopilot as she led Mercy over fences and through twisting alleys. She glanced over her shoulder once to make sure Mercy was still behind her and that was it. They were almost home. They were so fucking close to home. They turned past an old warehouse and Mercy knew it was a straight shot from there. They just had to keep running.
A car skidded around the corner and screeched to a stop, cutting them off. Another pulled up behind them as the gang members on their feet caught up. They were stuck. More gang members piled out of the cars. The Warriors stood back to back, fists raised, ready to fight if they had to, but they were no Swan. They were no Ajax. Mercy felt Rembrandt trembling pressed against her as the gang members closed in around them. She felt the handle of Ajax’s knife digging into her back. She didn’t know what to do. She looked around, searching for a way to escape, unable to even hear her own thoughts over the taunts and laughter from their attackers.
On the side of the warehouse, there was a fire escape, the kind where the steps went all the way down to the street. There was a break in the tightening circle of people around them.
“Aw, look at that,” one of the men snickered. “The baby’s scared!”
Get home alive.
Don’t let anything happen to Rembrandt.
Mercy spun and shoved Rembrandt up the fire escape. One of the gang members grabbed her leg, and she fell forward onto the metal steps but Rembrandt kept going and that was what mattered. As she tried to kick the man down the stairs, she watched Rembrandt hit the second floor landing.
She watched a gang member come down from the top and grab Rembrandt by the collar. How the fuck had he gotten past them?
The man lifted Rembrandt off her feet, trapping her against the railing. She clung to his arms and tried to scratch and fight and break free but it was no use. He sneered at her.
“I didn’t think this would be so easy,” he growled. “Thought you’d put up a better fight.”
“Wait, wait, stop, put me down!” Rembrandt shouted.
“We got down through Brooklyn no problem. Killing a few Warriors should get Coney Island for us, huh? Easier to get through the rest of the city without having to come over on that fucking boat.”
Mercy finally kicked free and charged up the stairs. “Get away from her!”
“Stop, stop, stop!”
“That peace meeting was a fucking joke.”
“No-!”
He threw Rembrandt over the edge.
Mercy’s knife was in her hand. She leapt up the final steps. With a wild, inhuman howl, she plunged the knife into the man’s back.
It stuck in the meat of his shoulder. It got him to the floor but it didn’t kill him. Pity. Mercy sent him tumbling down the stairs. She looked over the edge to where she was sure Rembrandt would be lying dead on the concrete…
But she wasn’t.
Rembrandt had landed on a big pile of trash bags on the curb. It was better than the sidewalk and Mercy could see her gasping for air, eyes open, but she still hit hard and she wasn’t moving and the remaining gang members were closing in on her. Mercy flew down the stairs to where the man she stabbed was lying in a crumpled heap. Grabbing him by his hair, she yanked his head up.
“ Hey! ” She put the knife to his neck as his buddies froze. “One more step and I will cut his fucking throat!”
Most of them stayed put. A few backed away, back towards the cars waiting for them. Mercy pressed the knife into his skin until beads of blood darkened the edge of the blade. That got them moving. All but two got back in the cars. She dropped the man and maintained the space between them as they grabbed him under his arms and dragged him into the car. With a cloud of smoke from the squealing tires, they sped off into the night.
Mercy dropped the knife and flew to Rembrandt. She got her arms under her, pulling her out of the trash heap, which probably wasn’t the safest idea without checking to see if she’d injured her neck but Mercy was moving on adrenaline. She sat Rembrandt against the wall and snapped her fingers in front of her face, trying to get her attention.
It was bad. Rembrandt was bleeding from a huge gash on her head. She was pale and her eyes wouldn’t focus. Mercy spotted a slice through her shirt on her side surrounded by a rapidly expanding red stain. Her arm hung limp, and Mercy was a thousand percent sure that a shoulder was not supposed to be in that position.
There was so much blood.
“Rembrandt, Rembrandt, hey, look at me,” she begged. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”
Rembrandt barely had the strength to shake her head. “C-Cleon,” she gasped. “I need Cleon.”
“Okay. Okay, we’ll get you to Cleon. Come on.”
Mercy slung Rembrandt’s arm over her shoulders and helped her to her feet, her heart twisting as Rembrandt tried to muffle a cry of pain. She struggled to walk, but with Mercy’s help, they began making their way towards the Warriors’ apartment. The whole time, Mercy kept talking:
“You’re gonna be fine. You’re okay. You’re gonna be totally fine, I promise. We’re almost home, Rem. You’re doing great. We’re so close.”
They crossed the street onto their block. Rembrandt tripped over her feet. Mercy couldn’t hold her up and sank to the ground with her, cradling her in her arms as her eyes closed and her head fell back. Mercy didn’t know what else to do, so she screamed.
“Cleon! Ajax! Help! Somebody, somebody help!”